


Letters

by one_last_time



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M, Multi, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 04:58:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11074536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_last_time/pseuds/one_last_time
Summary: Jefferson is just waiting for his A-L-E-X. Hamilton couldn't get far enough away.





	Letters

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic.. be kind plz.

The first time Jefferson noticed any words on someone was the small bracelet that covered his Nanny's leg, from where she hiked up her dress to help him into a bath. The total of maybe 10 big blocky letters covered her entire leg, and they had captivated him. When he asked her what they meant, she said, "Ask your mother. She will tell you when you are ready."

So at three he asked his mother, and she cried when he asked. How could her son want to know such a thing at such an early age? Most children wouldn't ask until they felt their first works etched into their skin. Needless to say, the Nanny was no longer a house slave, but worked in the fields the next day.

So his mother explained how the words worked. How each person has a soulmate, and all the words they will ever write will appear on their mates body in one part of their body. And as more words are added, the smaller the words that were there previously became so that the soulmates body didn't become flooded with words. She also explained the taboo behind the words, and the rarity of actually finding one's soulmate. How most people hide their marks so that no one feels ashamed about not meeting their "one". And about how some people do meet their one, and the greatness that they shared because of it.

His mother took off her bracelet that day, and showed him the thin line of elegant writing which wrapped around her wrist in small band, barely an inch wide. When he asked her if his father was her soulmate, she replied, "I wouldn't know. They wrote so much for such a small space, that I will never be able to read what they have written."

That was the end of it, and she walked away with a small, sad, smile on her face. And so he waited for his soulmate, and watched his family and their interactions. He watched as his eldest sister at 5 received her first word on her ankle. A name, Markus, which wrapped around her whole foot, but in very small print. His mother cried, realizing that as more words came, the print would become unrecognizable or readable. At 7, he watched his little one year old sister receive her word, happy, across her collar bone, and watched his most's squeal of delight as she realized how much writing space they were given, and told Martha with glee that she could meet her soulmate if they were smart in their writing.

By the time Thomas was 10, all of his siblings had received a word, as had all of his friends. His parents looked down on him with pity, and with a sinking stomach, he wondered what it meant.

He heard what it meant when he was supposed to be asleep. His parents were arguing in the living room. "Well it could mean that he doesn't have a soulmate."

"Peter, don't be stupid, it could just mean that his soulmate isn't born, or is to young to write."

"Or they could be dead! Or worst, dumb in the head!"

His mind was reeling. His soulmate? Dumb? Dead? No! He ran in a panic, far as he could go. It was then, in the dead of the night, sitting with his back to a dead tree, did his back start to itch. He began to scratch, but as he felt individual lines form against his body, he frantically went to put off his shirt. There, in thick, black, messy handwriting, were big letters stretched across his back. A-L-E-X. Alex was his soulmate.

Frantically he ran back home, and ran into the living room as fast as he could, jumping into his father. "Thomas, for gods sake what are you doing?" His mother asked.

He hopped down quickly. "Look, look!" He screeched as he tried to pull off his shirt. As his mother looked as his back, he heard little sobs as she realized how much space he had. He heard her cry, while his father looked on in pride, and with one swoop, he brought him up for a huge hug, and they stayed like that for what seemed like the whole night.

And from that point on, Alex was non-stop. First letters of the alphabet, then numbers, and little words, finally full sentences. He thought that maybe Alex was just a child, but god was he so happy. 

One day he woke up to sobbing. Who was crying at gods hour of the morning? Only his mother, shaking above his little sister, and as they stood above her, he watched her letters fade from black, to normal skin color. And oh did they sob that day, as Martha's soulmate died right before their eyes. And that was the first time he realized that having a soulmate was not fun, nor always happy.

But Thomas was happy, his soulmate was alive, writing sentence after sentence. Until one day at 15, the words stopped. His back was filled with words at his point, sentences tripping over themselves to be front and center. Suddenly, they stopped dancing and moving. They slowly turned paler and paler, and he cried every night. Not his soulmate, never his soul, his heart. They had to stay alive. And some how they did.

And if he thought that his soulmate wrote before, he was wrong. Suddenly Alex was writing literally everything. Things about freedom, about money, a job, working, and for 5 years things were fine. His Alex wrote in French, perhaps he lived France? Maybe he lived in Europe, and just moved? So Thomas learned French, hoping that the more he wrote in French, maybe Alex would be able to reach out to him. And then at 20, his words start to fade again. God, not again. Please not his Alex. Someone else, not his soulmate. For the second time, Thomas felt himself praying for each day to pass, for the letters to still be there when he woke up. His father talked about two different disasters, a hurricane that passed through the Caribbean, and a disease that rampaged through Europe. He prayed for the first time, for his soulmate not to be in either of those places. Finally, one day his letters were back. In facts, they were back, and bolder. His soulmate was not only safe and not dead, but was healthier.

And with that Thomas was happy. He took a brief interlude from his soulmate at the point, and looked up at those around him. He watched his father’s world fall apart as his mother leaves with a younger man who is soulmate, whose first words match what she recalls writing, and every little word she writes appears on his arm. He watches as she runs back to his father when her “one” becomes abusive, and dumps her for a younger women, and watches as his family falls apart. He sees his sister’s marriage fall apart when her husband bats his eyes as a bustier women who claims to be his soul mate. And he decides soulmates may not be the best.

Then he meets Alex. Alex, his one. He knew it, and Alex said that he had Thomas written across his butt cheek, and Thomas’ words. And does Thomas believe it. He showers Alex with gifts, Alex writes in French. He buys him cloths, and pays for his mothers illness. And then Alex leaves with one letter, with a few words, and all the gifts are gone.

Dear Thomas,  
You aren’t my soulmate. You never were, and never will be. God, you are such a fool. I thought, how long can I keep this up? My name isn’t even Alex, you fool. What an idiot you are. Anyways, I have meet my soulmate, don’t expect me for dinner.  
Alex

And just like that, his heart was broken. His Alex doesn’t exist, and there is no soulmate for him. He has seen how the system fails, the heartbreak and pain. And it is wrong. So he fights and kills for a new nation, and writes for himself, not for Alex. His words are now for the nation, for his country. And so he leaves as the fighting starts, to continue to fight for that love, in France. If Alex doesn’t want him, at least he can have something that connects him to him. France.

——ALEX——

Alex’s words appear when he is only one. His mother is so happy. He is happy. HIs father isn’t. His father looks at those words, and spits on them. Keeps him from ever learning how to return them. His father looks at his own words, and how they connect them and keep him attached to his mother. He quickly learns that words are terrible, and that they shouldn’t be returned. Words are just a curse, and soulmates are just burdens. So when his father breaks their family apart, and leaves when he is 10, he is happy that he can finally write. But he never wants to find his soulmate. Look at his family, they are happier without soulmates and the challenges that they provide. 

So he writes his first name, but not his last. And he fills up the pages with letters and numbers so that they can’t read any of the words that he writes. He know that who ever his Thomas is could be a good person. But he doesn’t care, so he writes in French, and suddenly there is a return in writing in French. When he is so close to dying at 12, and then at 17, he doesn’t care what his words say. And he gets to go to Kings college. To move on. Who ever his soul mate is, they are either in France or in a French speaking country, and the colonies wasn’t one of those places. He was leaving them behind, and starting a new chapter in his life.

“Excuse me, are you Aaron Burr, Sir?”  
“That depends, whose asking?”

And with that, he started a new chapter in his life. When he meets Lafayette, he actually becomes hopeful for once in his life. A French speaker, whose words might match the lines written across his chest. He wouldn’t mind the fluid, bouncy man to be his soul mate. And after all, he has so many names that honestly one of them might actually be Thomas. But the order of languages was wrong. Lafayette learned French first, then English, and his words said English then French. Laurens thought that he might be his soul mate, and every day Alex watches Laurens fall more in love, and can’t bring himself to tell him that Thomas is him, not John. 

“I am in dire need of assistance”  
He meets Washington, and sees his happiness with Martha, his soulmate. Maybe it wouldn’t be bad to meet one’s mirror soul? And just like that, he wanted to meet Thomas. His Thomas, the one who could match his wits and be his whole world. Nothing would be like it. Then he meets the Schuyler Sisters. Each are as beautiful as the other, and he wonders who they are meant to be with. Angelica has blank wrists. Maybe she could match him? And Eliza has Maria splayed across her chin. And he realizes that this is a women that needs protection, needs help to find simple Maria. So there is a marriage of convenience. 

And suddenly they have won the war, and Laurens is gone. And he is trying to create the new US constitution, and accidentally introduces Madison to Burr, and they get along like a house on fire, and then they are getting married. And it was all fine when Theodosia Burr-Madison is born, and he and a Thomas, god a Thomas, are named as god fathers. And it is all fine, because Thomas is in France, and his is to be apart of Washington’s cabinet.

——Thomas——   
“We have to win”  
His friend Jemmy is worried about an Alexander, who apparently is a total jack ass, and trying to take government control to a new level, but is Jemmy’s soulmates best friend. So who better to argue agains this then Thomas, against another stupid immigrant.

“Mr. Jefferson, Alexander Hamilton”  
And he hates this Alex, and his stupid plan, and everything about his stupid face. God, the name Alex is a curse. And the letters on his back only become more rapid and there is no more space, or way to read them. His Alex writes to much, and Hamilton is a pain in his ass. 

“Pray to god we never see Hamilton’s candidacy,” He says it out loud in the meeting, but he had written it down before. He’s ready to keep going after Hamilton, when the man stands up and practically runs out of the room. Washington looks at him like he is the devil, and all eyes are on him, and he needs to find Hamilton. Needs to apologize for whatever the fuck he said to piss him off. He follows Hamilton to the bathroom, where he stumbles on him with his shirt open. 

He goes to turn around, he knows its rude to look at another’s words, but then, “Don’t look away. You can look, after all they are yours.” Now Thomas feels confused, and he steps up to look at the scribble across the man’s chest.

“Your words, ‘Pray to god we never see Hamilton’s candidacy’, they appeared on my chest only an hour. You’re my soulmate. I thought you should know.” The smaller man goes to flee, tears forming in eyes. Without even thinking about it, Thomas pulls Alex close to his chest. For a few heartbeats he holds him close, feeling his soulmates small bones through his layers, feels how thin and dangerously small he is.

It takes him another minute to pull his thoughts together, before he falls to the floor with him in his arms.   
“Alex, my Alex”  
And they’re crying, and Washington must be wondering were they are. And Thomas knows that this wouldn’t be an easy soulmate pairing, and that most times they wouldn’t even agree on the same ideals. And he knows that it will be fine, and that if they already fight on so much, their soul partnering would be fine.


End file.
